


all the stars and their chaos

by bigyikesdude



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Friends to Lovers, I dont do insta love I do insta dad, Laurent is a bit softer in this bc he grew up with Auguste's love and protection, M/M, Mutual Pining, as in Makedon sees laurent and immediately adopts him, damen as the handsome prince, kastor is a big asshole in this one but what's new, laurent as a sorcerer, magic!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigyikesdude/pseuds/bigyikesdude
Summary: In order to cement the new alliance between Akielos and Vere, Laurent moves to Ios to work as a sorcerer for King Theomedes.But something sinister is lurking in Akielos.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 123





	1. the beginning.

A flame danced across Laurent's fingers. He twisted his hands, guiding the flame from palm to palm and fingertip to fingertip. It gave his mind something to do besides think about what was to come. Fire was a difficult element to control-- it had no master but itself-- and it demanded his full attention to keep from escaping his hands.

"Please be careful," The guard sitting across from him in the carriage said, "If you drop that, this thing will go up like a tinderbox."

Laurent extinguished the flame and looked out the window. Akielos was a beautiful country, but the beauty did nothing to settle the nerves in Laurent's stomach. His mind drifted from the carriage back to Arles.

"You will be fine in Akielos. You are the best sorcerer in the world," Auguste had told him. He had reached forward and ruffled Laurent's hair, ruining the careful work Laurent had done to manage his big curls.

Laurent had replied with an eye-roll, "The world is a big place."

"The best in Akielos, certainly."

"Only because Akielos has not had a sorcerer in three hundred years," Laurent had argued only half-heartedly. Auguste had laughed brightly, and Laurent's heart swelled with love.

"You're going to do well in Akielos, Lo," Auguste had said, taking Laurent's face in his hands and pressing a wet kiss to Laurent's forehead. When he was younger, Laurent would have groaned and pushed him away, but that day, he had accepted it. Auguste said, "This is going to be a good thing. You'll like Akielos."

Laurent had just nodded wordlessly. Auguste hugged him tight, then whispered a goodbye and a soft "I love you." After that, Laurent was shuffled out the palace and stuffed into a carriage bound for Akielos.

The alliance was still a delicate thing, and Laurent's new position as mage for the king of Akielos was intended to strengthen it. It was a dangerous gamble, Laurent knew, but Auguste trusted him to keep the alliance secure, so Laurent would do just that.

Outside the window, Laurent caught the first glimpses of the palace. It was partially obscured by the walls, but Laurent could just make out the tall roof and the white pillars that held it up. It was an ancient building, and it looked as much. The white stone was powerful, but ivy had started to creep up the cracks. It clung to the cliffside as if it were a part of the mountain. When he looked out the opposite window, Laurent could see the ocean crashing against the rocky shore.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and the door swung open. The sun sent golden threads of light down onto Laurent's skin.

A large guard stood outside offered Laurent a hand getting out, which Laurent accepted as he gracefully stepped out of the carriage. His muscles ached and his joints creaked. The air was more humid than he had expected, and he regretted his choice of a collared shirt. The guard bowed to him and said, "I am to escort you inside, your Highness."

A spark darted from Laurent's fingertips, and he quickly curled his fingers to stifle any escaping flames. The dry grass would ignite too easily for him to risk any more fire magic. Instead he focused on what was ahead of him as the guard brought him through the gates. The palace loomed even larger than it had looked from the carriage. His stomach was churning with anxiety, and his heart fluttered in his chest. He did all he could to keep his strides even and his spine straight.

Along the palace wall was a garden full of blooming flowers and ripening fruits. Bright orange citrus fruit hung from the branches of a short tree, and tiny white flower bulbs covered another. Laurent searched the plants for any herbs he could recognize, but found none immediately within his line of sight. 

They walked up the steps of the palace and through the large doors. The marble floors and stark white walls stretched into a long hallway. It was unlike anything in Vere, which was always bursting with colors and intricacy. There were marble statues along one of the walls, and Laurent's eyes lingered on each one as they passed. Some were warriors, others kings or queens, others both. Their faces and clothes were carved with the careful delicacy and precision only a master artist could manage. Laurent could spend hours looking at them, but for now, he moved forward.

King Theomedes and his son, the crown prince, were waiting for him in the grand hall. The king wore a rich, red cloak that draped elegantly over his shoulders and swept the floor. He was a tall man, and his black hair was peppered with silver. His eyes were lined with crows feet, though he wore wore his wrinkles with as much grace as he wore the crown perched on his head.

Prince Damianos stood at his right side. He was a large man by all standards: tall and rippled with muscles that were obvious even under the fabric of his clothes. He shared his father's strong jaw, sharp nose, and black curls. He spotted Laurent first and broke into a wide smile that dimpled his cheeks. The look made Laurent's own cheeks flush with heat. Laurent clasped his hands in front of him and drew his courage.

"Prince Laurent of Vere," The guard announced to the room.

Laurent walked to King Theomedes first and bowed his head. When he straightened, the king wore a warm smile. In it, Laurent saw the resemblance between this man and Damianos.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, your Highness. King Auguste speaks highly of you," King Theomedes said. He glanced at Damianos, then back to Laurent to say, "I am intrigued by your magic. Your king promises it will be useful to me. Perhaps over dinner, we can discuss your role in my court."

"I would like that," Laurent agreed, "and I am glad to meet you as well. Auguste--" Laurent quickly corrected, "King Auguste and I are very pleased with the success of the peace treaty."

"As am I," King Theomedes nodded. He then turned to Prince Damianos and gestured with his arm, "I'd like to introduce my son, Damianos. You should know that he is the most excited for your stay with us. Magic has always fascinated him."

"It has," Damianos agreed. With a little mirth in his eyes, he said, "Perhaps you can show me?"

"Damianos," The king scolded in a tone that made Laurent smile. It was too paternal to sound like the words of a king. King Theomedes continued, "The prince of Vere is not a circus act. He is not here to entertain you with party tricks."

"Of course," Damianos bowed his head and said, "My deepest apologies, your Highness."

"It is perfectly alright," Laurent said, not bothering to hide his smile. It was his first one since saying goodbye to Auguste a week earlier. He admitted, "Magic fascinates me, too."

Prince Damianos smiled.

"I'm sure you're weary after your travels," The king said, "Damianos has offered to show you to your chambers. I'll arrange for servants to bring your things after you."

Laurent nodded, "Thank you, Exalted."

Prince Damianos extended his elbow, and Laurent smiled as he accepted. 

Damianos took him further into the castle, where the statues were replaced with paintings taller than even Damianos himself. They depicted bloody battles and strong warriors, dressed in only sparse armor and loincloth. The warriors brandished spears and swords and fought grotesque monsters.

"The Old Wars," Damianos said when he caught Laurent staring at the paintings. Damianos continued, "My ancestors ridded the country of the monsters that tormented our people." 

"I've heard the stories," Laurent said. His eyes went to one particular warrior-- a grand man with a spear, dressed in a rich, red cloak similar to the one King Theomedes had been wearing. Laurent commented, "That one looks like you." 

Damainos smiled at that. With dimpled cheeks, he said, "Perhaps we're related." 

They continued up a grand marble staircase, where guards on either side bowed low as they passed. Damianos led Laurent expertly through a winding hallway until Laurent was dizzy with it. The palace was larger than Laurent had thought, even despite how large it looked. It would take him a while to find anything on his own. 

For a moment, he was struck with homesickness. He knew his way around the palace in Arles with his eyes closed.

Damianos gestured to a heavy wooden door and said, "This is yours, your Highness." He pushed the door open and stepped off to the side so Laurent could go inside first.

The room was a stark white, just like the rest of the palace. It was at the corner, so it had two large windows rather than one, though the sunlight was partially blocked by thin curtains. The room held a large bed with a pile of soft pillows, a simple wooden desk, and a wooden wardrobe carved with delicate details along the corners and across the doors. Laurent reached forward absentmindedly and let his fingers brush gently across the wood. He could feel the energy beneath his fingertips-- the love and care the carver had put into this wardrobe.

"I hope it is to your liking," Damianos said from the doorway.

Laurent nodded quickly and turned back to face him, "Yes, it's lovely." 

The curtains flicked open by themselves, and for a second, Damianos looked surprised. Then his eyes went to Laurent, and a smile burst across his face. He asked, his voice laced with excitement, "Was that you?" 

Laurent only smiled. Sunlight flooded into the room, and through the windows, Laurent could see a balcony that wrapped around the corner. 

"Do you think I could plant some things on the balcony?" Laurent asked, glancing back at Prince Damianos. 

"Of course," Damianos nodded eagerly, "I'll have a servant bring you some flower boxes. What will you be planting?" 

"Herbs," Laurent replied, then quickly justified himself by saying, "I like to use them in remedies."

"My mother liked gardening, too," Damianos said, smiling still. He paused a moment, eyes lingering on Laurent, then said, "You must be tired. I will leave you to get settled. Call for me if you need anything at all." He walked forward a few steps, took Laurent's hand, and kissed his knuckles gently. Laurent could not hide his smile.

"Thank you, my Lord," Laurent bowed his head, but quickly raised it again when Damianos set his fingers under Laurent's chin to guide his head back up.

"You do not need to bow to me, Prince Laurent," Damianos said, "Nor do you need to use titles. I understand that you are sacrificing a lot to be here, and that the alliance means as much to you as it does to me. Please, call me Damen." 

"Damen," Laurent repeated with a little nod, "Call me Laurent, then." 

For a second, Laurent scolded himself. Becoming informal with the prince of Akielos so soon after his arrival? Auguste would have laughed in his face. 

Behind Damen, servants bearing Laurent's trunks shuffled into the room. 

"You can leave them anywhere," Laurent told them, "I'll take care of them." The servants looked surprised, but none of them offered any word of protest.

"I'll send someone to get you when it's time for supper," Damen said, "If you've fallen asleep for the night by that time, I'll instruct them not to wake you." 

Laurent thanked Damen, and with that, Damen was gone. The servants finished stacking the trunks and after that, Laurent was alone. He sat down on the edge of his new bed and sank into the soft mattress-- much softer than they were in Arles. As much as he wanted to fall asleep right then, he had promised his brother he would write home as soon as he could.

So Laurent got up, opened his smallest trunk and withdrew a black wax candle, a scrap of parchment, and a letter-opener. He moved to his desk and sat in the creaking wooden chair. He set the candle and the parchment neatly on the desktop and carefully smoothed the creases in the paper. He lifted the letter-opener. 

Magic was a demanding thing. It required balance. For everything given, something must be taken. Controlling the elements, like the fire between his fingers or the air that pushed the curtains open, was one thing, but anything more complicated demanded a payment. 

Laurent dug his finger into the sharp tip of the letter-opener until a fat drop of blood fell onto the parchment below. It seeped into the coarse paper.

"Dear Auguste," Laurent murmured, and the blood began to slide along the page to form the letters, "I hope this letter finds you well. I've arrived safely in Ios..." 

As he spoke, the bloody letters shifted from red to black, as if they had been ink all along. When he finished, Laurent lit the candle. In Arles, Auguste's twin candle would also light. He set the edge of the parchment in the flame and held it there until it was nothing but wisps of air. In Arles, the letter would appear on the table beside the candle. 

When Laurent blew his candle out, both candles extinguished.


	2. the meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i.e. laurent has a bad night.

Laurent missed dinner. 

He woke from a nap he didn't remember falling asleep for and immediately scrambled to make himself presentable. The sun had already set, sending his one bright room into darkness. When Laurent hurried into the hallway, a servant smiled graciously and informed him that although dinner was over, the desert course was about to be served in the grand hall. 

It turned out that desert courses in Akielos were different than Vere. Laurent expected everyone to be silently picking at their pastries, but instead everyone was milling about, talking loudly, laughing, and indulging in fruit and wine. Laurent wandered aimlessly.

Eyes lingered on him for too long. He watched several people look at him, then turn to each other to begin whispering and throwing glances his way. They made no effort to be subtle. 

Laurent had hated crowds since he was a child. 

He quickened his pace as he skirted around the room, unsure of what he was looking for. Magic jumped anxiously between his fingers, and he clenched his fists to stop it from bubbling out. 

For the first time in a very long time, Laurent was unsure about his ability to control his magic. Control was everything when it came to magic-- without it, there was only chaos. Nervousness made magic unstable, and the thought of making his magic unstable only made Laurent more nervous. 

The last time he lost control of his magic, he was fifteen. He had been arguing with Auguste when the window blew out. Both of them had to have glass picked out of their arms. After that, Laurent was very careful with his power. 

Laurent took a deep breath to collect himself.

Someone called his name, or so he thought. He turned around to see who was speaking but found no one. When he turned back to look where he was going, he was already colliding with a knight.

"Careful," The knight chided, clearly annoyed. 

Laurent backed away, saying, "Sorry. I wasn't looking."

The knight looked at him for a long time, and Laurent already knew what he was going to say next.

"Prince Laurent of Vere, I take it?" The knight arched his eyebrows. Laurent just nodded, and the guard laughed. He leaned closer so Laurent could hear him over the noise, "King Auguste promised he was sending us a great sorcerer. I mean no offense, my Lord, but you look more like a little bird." 

Laurent hesitated. He snapped, "One can be two things." 

The knight chuckled, "I didn't mean to--" He stopped abruptly and looked down at the hem of his cloak, which was burning. 

In the second of silence that followed, Laurent wondered if he had acted too rashly. Then the knight erupted into laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. The flame died, and to Laurent's own surprise, he smiled.

"I heard Veretians had hot tempers," The knight laughed. 

It was a stupid joke, but Laurent laughed too. 

When he regained his composure, the knight commented, "I did not see you at dinner."

"I fell asleep." 

"Hm." The knight nodded. He then said, "Come with me." 

Laurent hesitated for a second, glanced around the room of unfamiliar faces, then followed the knight. His eyes darted across the room, searching for the king or Damianos or anyone familiar. His gaze landed on a tall man who bore similar features to the king-- Prince Kastor, he assumed. Prince Kastor had a crowd of courtiers surrounding him, all doubled over with laughter. Wine and a darker liquid passed between them, and it was clear that the prince had already drunk his share. 

"Keep up, little bird," The knight called over his shoulder, and Laurent hurried to fall into step beside him.

"What is your name?"

"Makedon."

"Right," Laurent nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. He held his shoulders back and tried to look regal as they passed through the crowd, "Where are we going, Sir Makedon?" 

"Kitchen. You ought to eat something; you're too skinny as it is," Makedon told him. When Laurent began to argue, Makedon interrupted to say, "And it's just Makedon." 

They left the grand hall and slipped into the kitchen, where Makedon gestured for Laurent to sit on the counter. Laurent hopped up obediently, though he argued, "I can make something for myself." 

"Can you?" Makedon looked amused by the idea, "Do all the royals cook in Vere?" 

"No. I can't cook," Laurent admitted.

Makedon gave him a backwards glance for a moment, then cracked a smile, "Yes, of course. Magic." He reached into the pantry and withdrew a jar of dried meat. He said, "In all honesty, my Lord, I cannot cook, either." 

Laurent laughed, and he ate what was offered. 

Makedon sat with him and joked while he ate, and Laurent felt his nerves begin to ease. 

* * *

When he was finished eating, Laurent politely dismissed himself to go in search of King Theomedes. Makedon waved him away and brought a stein to his lips. The liquid that sloshed inside was dark and had a beyond potent smell. Laurent recognized it as the contents of Prince Kastor's glass and wrinkled his nose. He'd never had much a taste for alcohol.

The crowds were beginning to settle for the night when Laurent returned to the grand hall. Courtiers were draped over chairs, sleepy from the booze. The crowd hand dwindled significantly, and Laurent's hopes sank. It seemed the king had retired for the night. 

Laurent considered leaving, too, but his eyes again caught on Prince Kastor. A woman was draped over his arm, laughing at something that could not possibly as funny as it seemed. Laurent began to walk over. 

It was only right he introduce himself to the last remaining member of the royal family. He was a guest of the king, and that made him a guest to Kastor as well. Kastor did not look as intoxicated as his friends, anyway, so perhaps he would even remember the meeting in the morning. Laurent hoped so. He thought it might be awkward if not.

When he approached Kastor, the air smelled thickly of alcohol. Kastor himself still had sharp eyes, but the courtiers around him could barely stand. Laurent straightened his spine and lifted his chin.

Prince Kastor turned around, pinning Laurent under his gaze. For a second, Kastor looked bored, then he said, "You must be the witch."

The word was jarring. No one had ever called Laurent a witch, at least not to his face. It was not a kind word, and Kastor's tone certainly did not make it any kinder. Still, Laurent put on a brave face, bowed low, and said, "Yes, your Highness."

Kastor's eyebrows flicked up, and he laughed. His cluster of fans laughed, too, uncertain of what was so funny. Kastor said, "That's right, you're Veretian. Such a strange country, Vere. Their love of magic is not universal."

"So I have heard," Laurent said. His composure was slipping. Already he felt threatened. Desperate to change the subject, he said, "It is good to finally make your acquaintance, your Highness. I was sorry to miss your presence upon my arrival."

"Ah, I was not invited to your arrival," Kastor replied with a sneer. He turned to his companions and said, "Veretians frown upon bastards. Did you know this? Such a strange country, indeed. Bursting with sexuality, yet terrified of children outside of the rigid confines of monogamous marriage. Seems a paradox to me."

The courtiers murmured their agreements, and Laurent said, "Of course. I agree, your Highness. If I had been informed beforehand, I would have requested to meet you upon my arrival."

Kastor regarded him for a moment, then broke into a smile. For a moment, Laurent thought the danger had been adverted.

Then Kastor moved forward, then he moved forward more. His courtiers followed his every move, crowding around until Laurent could smell the perfume of each individual member. They looked at him with curiosity.

"I am glad to have a witch in Akielos," Kastor said, again using that word as if it held no negativity. His words were slurring. Laurent did all he could not to flinch and only barely succeeded. Kastor continued, "Magic is a powerful thing. Wielding it is wielding power itself. I am glad that our kingdom of Akielos is finally embracing it with open arms."

A genuine smile crossed Laurent's face. He agreed, "Yes, I'm glad you think so. I am excited to be here."

"Cannot be too excited. You're still dressed like a Veretian." Kastor nodded to Laurent's clothes, and the courtiers all looked. Laurent's smile quickly fell as he himself looked down, too, as if he had somehow forgotten what he was wearing. It was simple by Veretian standards.

"Right," Laurent said, an embarrassed flush rising in his cheeks. A noblewoman giggled behind her fingers.

"I don't like Veretian clothes. And this color doesn't suit your complexion," Kastor said matter-of-factly. He did not seem concerned with the possibility of insulting Laurent. He reached forward shamelessly and rubbed the fabric of Laurent's collar between his fingers.

Hyperaware of the eyes on him, Laurent floundered for a response for a moment. Men and women alike watched him with varying expressions of amusement, distain, and something Laurent could only identify as hunger. With his body tensed, Laurent began to say, "I'm sorry, your Highness," but was interrupted by Kastor's gruff response.

"Take it off."

The words hung in the air for a moment, then laughter and lighthearted jeering filled the air. Laurent could do nothing but look at Kastor and wonder just how serious he was.

When Laurent gathered the strength to speak, his voice shook. He said, "I don't understand--"

"Take it off," Kastor repeated, tugging harshly at the fabric and making Laurent stumble to catch himself. The laughter stopped abruptly, and the eyes watched him with new intensity.

Laurent glanced around at the other courtiers. He half-expected one of them to move to his defense, but none did. They simply watched. Laurent gathered his wits and breathed the words, "Of course, your Highness."

He lifted trembling fingers to his collar and tugged the laces free of their knot. His fingers felt like lead as he worked the laces looser little by little. The skin of his neck pricked into gooseflesh as it became more and more exposed. It was slow, just an inch at a time, but it felt as if he were already naked.

Becoming impatient with Laurent's slow work, Kastor reached forward and yanked on Laurent's shirt. The undershirt beneath tore under the sharp pressure. Unfazed by the sound of tearing fabric, Kastor gestured for Laurent to continue. 

When Laurent removed his shirt, Kastor said, sounding annoyed, "Now the rest." He gestured to Laurent's pants, which Laurent fumbled clumsily to unlace. A man from the crowd dropped gracefully to crouch and unlace Laurent's shoes, then helped him get out of them. By the time he was done, Laurent removed his pants with shaking hands. He stood in only his underclothes, silent as the men and women looked at him.

It was more of him than anyone in Vere had seen in a very long time. His undershorts left the majority of his legs bare. He had not worn shorts since he was a child, as was typical in Vere. As well as his legs, his neck was exposed, as were his collarbones, wrists, and a long line of flesh from his sternum to his naval where his undershirt was torn.

"You see?" Kastor said it to Laurent, but he turned to the crowd and gestured grandly with his arms, "You've such a beautiful body. You should not be hiding it behind tasteless Veretian clothes." He reached forward and pinched Laurent's cheek, a wide smile on his face. He turned back to the crowd, searching for their approval.

One of the younger of the courtiers, eager to please Kastor, agreed loudly, "You're right, of course, Prince Kastor." Voices chimed in agreement, and eyes raked over his bare skin.

Laurent felt very young and very stupid and very small.

Kastor threw his head back laughing, and the rest soon followed. Laurent's stomach churned. He desperately wanted an excuse to leave the party early, but looking around, he doubted he would find one anytime soon. He was an oddity here, even more so now that he was undressed. He was foreign and strange and magic, all things these people rarely saw. Laurent imagined it was only a matter of time before someone asked him to perform a spell like a street magician.

"Its a shame Damianos is not here to witness the festivities," Kastor said with a wink thrown in Laurent's general direction, "He has a thing for blonds. He would have enjoyed the show." The crowd laughed again and began chattering.

Laurent thought about Damianos: the wide smile, the dimpled cheeks, the carefully gentle hands. Would Damianos had stood and watched? Instinct told him that no, of course Damianos would have intervened. He was honorable and just and kind. But Kastor's tone made him reconsider.

The conversation drifted as Laurent stood silently and wrapped his arms around himself. Women giggled and gossiped. Men laughed heartily and drank more than Laurent thought possible. The crowd shifted and moved, and someone toucher Laurent's ass on their way to the bar. Laurent couldn't react. Magic was still not entirely liked in Akielos, and if he cast a spell on someone just for touching him without asking, there was no guarantee they would not tie him down to a stake and burn him alive.

A long time passed before Laurent moved again. He walked silently in his socks across the marble floor. The voices that swam through the air were overwhelmingly loud. Laurent wanted nothing more than to be back in his own room, curled up with a book and some tea. He wanted Auguste. He wanted to go home.

Instead he wandered the outskirts of the party until he felt confident enough to slip into a hallway. He walked a little ways before stopping. The air was colder closer to the walls. A window was open and letting in the night air. Laurent's torn undershirt kept slipping down his shoulder and threatening to expose his nipples, so he drew it closer to himself.

Someone was staring out the window with a stein in hand. Laurent continued in silent, socked footsteps and hoped the man would not hear. The man heard him anyway.

Makedon looked up from his stein and gave Laurent a once-over. Laurent drew his arms closer to his body as if he had any hope of shielding himself. Makedon finally said, "You look like hell, little bird."

A laugh rippled out of Laurent. He laughed until he started crying, then he stopped laughing and choked on a sob. He brought his hands to his face and covered himself.

He felt a slight pressure on his shoulders, and when he looked up from his fingers, he found Makedon's cloak draped over him. Makedon was clasping the cloak, careful to avoid touching Laurent's bare skin. He said gently, "It's alright. I think you've had quite enough for one night. Let's get you back to your chambers."

Laurent didn't say anything, but he let Makedon lead him into the hall. Voices from the party filled the air, and Laurent tensed. Without being asked, Makedon set an arm around Laurent's shoulders, drew him close, and said, "You shouldn't let Kastor bully you. You could strike him down with a wave of your hand. I doubt Damianos would even be angry with you if he knew how you had been treated."

Relief filled Laurent. He had not been wrong about Damianos. "How did you know it was Kastor?" Laurent's voice was still too small. He cleared his throat.

Makedon simply said, "Kastor likes to feel big."

A moment of silence passed between them, then Laurent said, "I would not strike down a member of the royal family. It would ruin the alliance."

"I agree," Makedon agreed, though his voice was grim, "and I am sorry."

They stopped outside of Laurent's door, and Laurent reached to remove Makedon's cloak. Makedon raised a hand to stop him.

"Keep it. You need a good Akielon cloak."

It fit too big on his shoulders, but because they were close enough in height, it hung at a decent length, ending just a few inches below his knees. He could always alter it, he thought. A simple spell would have it fitting like it had been made for him specifically.

He bowed his head and said, "Thank you."

"Sleep well, little bird. You have work to do in the morning," Makedon replied. He did not return the bow, but he nodded his head to Laurent before making his exit.

Laurent slipped inside his room and shut the door with a little click. He crossed the room and sank into his soft bed.

The candle on his desk blazed to life, and beside it, a letter appeared. Auguste had written back. A moment later, the candle went out, and the room was plunged back into darkness. 

Laurent fell back onto his pillows and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! all your comments/kudos mean a lot!


	3. the promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a medieval au lol I forgot to say that but I hope it is clear.  
> Here's a fluffy chapter to help you out during these hard times; next chapter will be more plot-y :)

Damen heard a disturbing rumor over breakfast the following morning.

"What do you mean 'undress'?" 

Makedon leaned closer to Damen so no one else would hear. His tone was dangerously even, "The little sorcerer came wandering out of the party half-dressed in only his torn underclothes. He was very upset. Wouldn't stop shaking."

"Kastor did this? You're certain?" 

"The boy admitted to it, but only after I asked specifically," Makedon replied. He shook his head in barely concealed distain.

Damen nodded. He said carefully, "I'll speak with my brother." 

Breakfast continued without much activity. Laurent was sitting beside King Theomedes at the king's request. Laurent looked relaxed enough-- he was talking with his hands and nodding. He also looked, Damen noticed, strikingly pretty in the morning sunlight. It washed over him in a golden glow.

When he finished, Damen excused himself. His father barely looked his way, but Laurent gave him a farewell smile. Damen could not help but smile back.

Damen knocked on his brother's door, "Kastor?"

"What?" Kastor asked, annoyance already in his voice. He was lying sprawled on his bed, not yet up for the day. Damen entered without being invited inside, which made Kastor sigh loudly but not quite complain. 

"I heard a rumor about your behavior last night," Damen said, eying his brother as he sat down at the rarely used desk, "I heard you had prince of Vere disrobe." Kastor just arched his eyebrows in response, so Damen huffed, "You cannot be tormenting him like this. He is a guest and a foreign ally."

Kastor laughed, then shook his head and said with a smile, "You're concerned for the wellbeing of some witch?" 

"Don't call him that," Damen snapped.

"It is not a bad word." 

"You intend it to be one," Damen shook his head. He hated scolding his brother, but he found himself compelled to defend Laurent. He said, "He might be in our territory for now, but he is still the prince of Vere. He holds political power, and you ought to be careful with him. One word to his brother, and the treaty could be dissolved." 

Kastor looked at him for a long moment, then said in a low voice, "No treaty is worth bringing magic into our kingdom. Even you must understand that." 

Damen recoiled, "Why would you say that?" 

"Magic is a dangerous thing, Damianos. That little witch could kill all of us with a wave of his hand." 

"I am aware. You are lucky he did not act out against you last night," Damen argued, "He would have been within his rights." It was the law in Akielos that self-defense was not a crime, even when it resulted in the death of the attacker. 

"You are blinded by his pretty face, Damianos," Kastor sat forward on his bed to close the distance between them. He hissed, "I know you look at him and you see some young, blond-haired Veretian boy, but he is nothing of the sort. He isn't even human." 

"You are spouting outdated rhetoric," Damen shook his head, "It has long since been accepted that sorcerers are human." 

"It is a lie," Kastor shook his head, "He is not what you think he is. It was a mistake bringing him here." 

Damen stood, shaking his head and holding out his hand to stop Kastor. He exclaimed, "It doesn't matter what you think about magic or sorcery or anything. Keep away from him, and we will have no quarrel."

"You are being ridiculous," Kastor rolled his eyes dramatically.

"I am not asking," Damen snapped, "You'll stay away from him, or there will be consequences." 

Kastor laughed without humor, "Careful. You speak as if you are already king." 

"You really think father would let you continue torturing our foreign ally?" 

Kastor rolled his eyes dramatically and dropped his head back onto his pillows. He waved his hands and said, "If that is all you want to talk about, please be on your way." 

Damen set his jaw. He knew his brother well enough to know that he would never admit defeat. He had to trust that Kastor understood he was beaten and would act accordingly. In the meantime, however, he would just have to make the sorcerer feel as welcomed as possible in Akielos.

He found Laurent again on his way out of the dining hall and quickly called his name. Laurent looked his way sharply and smiled.

"Damen," He said, and Damen liked the way his childhood nickname sounded with the Veretian accent, "how are you this morning?" 

"Better now," Damen said, "Would you like to take a walk with me? If you are busy, of course, I don't expect you to--"

"Yes, I'd like that," Laurent cut him off with a quick nod. He accepted the arm that Damen offered.

They walked in easy silence out the main doors and into the midmorning sun. Damen led the way across the cobblestone path towards his mother's gardens. 

"I thought I could show you around the grounds," Damen said, "We can go down to the beach late if you'd like." 

Laurent looked sharply up at Damen and said, a bit of embarrassment in his voice, "I don't know how to swim." 

"What?" 

"I live in Arles," Laurent defended, "It's too cold half the year, anyway, and it's too far inland to go to the beach. I've never needed to learn." 

"I can teach you," Damen offered, which made Laurent smile.

Because their arms were still linked, Damen could tell when Laurent's pace wavered in front of a marble statue. Damen drew them to a stop in front of the statue. He'd seen it so many times, he had nearly forgotten how impressive it was. The statue loomed a head taller than Damen and was rippled with hyperrealistic muscles completed with veins that ran down the warrior's arms. In his hand, he held a spear taller than himself. Ivy branches laced up the warrior's legs.

"Who was he?" Laurent asked, not taking his eyes off the statue.

"A general in the Old Wars," Damen replied, "It's said that he slayed the last dragon when he was younger than you."

"Why?" 

The question came as a surprise. Damen glanced from the statue to Laurent, who was still raking his eyes over the cracked face of the warrior. 

"The dragons were tearing through villages, killing people with their fire. They needed to be dealt with," Damen told him. When Laurent had nothing to say, Damen continued the conversation by asking, "Were there ever dragons in Vere?" 

"As far as I know, there are still dragons in Vere," Laurent replied, "Not in Arles-- much farther North. In the mountains, where they can live separate from the people. No one has seen them in centuries, but I have to imagine they're still there." 

Damen nodded, and Laurent started walking again. He listened carefully when Damen talked about each of the different types of flowers and fruit trees. It filled Damen with warmth to be sharing his mother's gardens with someone who seemed to appreciate them. 

When they crossed out of the gardens, they came across the training grounds. 

Laurent slipped free of Damen's grasp to go inspect the weapons rack. His fingers trailed an inch away from every blade, but he looked at the weapons with the respect of someone who was familiar with them. Damen brought his hand to the hilt of his own sword, which hung as always at his waist.

"Do you fight?" Damen asked suddenly, excited by the thought.

Laurent shrugged and without turning around, answered, "My brother taught me to sword fight, but I have never needed it."

Damen paused a moment. A part of him wanted to ask Laurent to spar, but another part--

"Do you ever fight with magic?" Damen asked, curiosity overtaking him.

Laurent did not look all too surprised. He just shook his head and admitted, "I rarely fight. These are peaceful times, Damianos."

"Of course," Damen nodded. Then he drew his sword and swung even with Laurent's throat. A second before it made impact Damen's arm seized and froze in place. No matter how much he tried, he could not move a single muscle in his sword hand. One by one, his fingers uncurled themselves, and the sword dropped harmlessly to the ground. Laurent was staring at him with an arched brow.

"I know what you're doing," Laurent chided, "and alright. You're on."

Laurent took a step back and allowed Damen to pick up his weapon. Damen kicked the sword aside and took a spear from the rack. He figured distance might do him some good.

When he turned to face his opponent, he found that Laurent was already sizing him up, hands readied at his sides. Damen thought he saw a spark dart between his thin fingers. Damen lifted the spear and asked, "Are you ready, your Highness?"

Laurent cracked a smile as he replied, "If you are."

Damen swung the spear in a low arc, intent on swiping out Laurent's legs and landing him on the ground. Laurent flicked his hand once, and a gust of wind sent the shaft of Damen's spear smacking into his forehead at such strength, it knocked him back a few steps.

Shocked, Damen brought his fingers to the spot of impact on his forehead, where he was certain to have a bruise come the next day. For a moment, Laurent looked at him wearily, then Damen laughed and the tension left Laurent's shoulders.

"Alright then, sorcerer," Damen laughed, "Go easy on me."

"I am," Laurent said, arching an eyebrow playfully, though it did not appear to be a joke.

Damen darted forward, and Laurent sidestepped with the grace of a dancer. He lifted his hands again, and the ground under Damen's feet shifted, nearly knocking him off balance. Just as he straightened himself, the dirt lurched forward, and Damen was sent sprawling onto his back. He quickly rolled to his feet and drove the spear towards Laurent, only for it to split straight down the center and fall to the ground on either side of Laurent.

With sudden certainty, Damen understood why his people feared magic.

Laurent was still smiling, so Damen let his fear dissolve. He took a new spear from the rack.

"You're a tricky little thing," Damen said. His steps were more careful now. He scanned Laurent, searching for an opportunity to strike.

"I am," Laurent said with a cock of his head, "but I am not a thing." Between his fingers, tiny bursts of lightning sparked.

Damen lunged, and Laurent rolled to the ground. A spark jumped from his hand to Damen's leg. The shock was small and more so surprised Damen than actually hurt, but it was enough to make Damen drop his spear.

The spear hit the ground and was no longer a spear, but a delicate blue flower. Damen laughed as he held his hands up in surrender, which in turn made Laurent smile and relax his posture. Damen picked the flower off the ground, brushed the dirt off the petals, and placed it in Laurent's hair. The color was striking against the white-blond of his hair.

"You fight well," Damen admitted. He put his hands together and bowed just slightly for Laurent-- a gesture common among knights after sparring.

Smiling, Laurent copied the gesture with grace. When he straightened he said, "As do you."

"Why did you not do that to my brother?" The question cut through the air and froze Laurent. Immediately, the light air of the conversation was made tense.

Laurent crossed his arms protectively over his chest and adverted his eyes, "I did not realize you heard about that."

"I am very sorry it happened," Damen said, shaking his head. His heart ached when he looked at the closed-off expression on Laurent's face, and he insisted, "My brother does not reflect the opinions of my country. We are honored to have you here. I only want to know... Well, you could have stopped it, but you did not. Why?"

Laurent kept his eyes downcast. He hesitated for a long moment before he finally said with careful pronunciation of each word, "How many years ago was it that the last Akielon sorcerer was burned at the stake?"

"Laurent," Damen urged, shocked at the question, "my father would never--"

"Your father was king at the time, was he not?" Laurent met Damen's eyes as he said it, and Damen saw fire behind them. Laurent pressed, "It was what, a bit over a decade ago?"

It was true that in the days after the Old Wars, magic had been outlawed in Akielos and punishable by death. The magic ban had been lifted under King Theomedes rule, but magic had yet to truly come back to Akielos. Most citizens still remembered the days without it. Most citizens hated and feared it. Damen did not.

"A decade is a long time," Damen argued. He realized suddenly that although this event left no lasting impression in his own mind, it clearly left a large one in Laurent's. He tried to imagine Laurent, a child just beginning to understand magic, learning of Akielos burning magicians alive. Damen quickly amended his words, "A decade is a plenty of time for opinions to change. If you had acted in self-defense, no one would have harmed you."

"If I attacked the prince with magic, no one would have harmed me?" Laurent asked with a shaky laugh. He shook his head and said, "At the very least, tensions would grow, Auguste would call me back to Vere, and the alliance would fall apart. We'd go to war within a few years and thousands of people would die and it would be my fault. It was better that I just--"

Damen's head was spinning. He had not realized how much Laurent had thought about this. It seemed that underneath the perfect, pretty exterior, there was a sharp mind full of the dangerous wit that Vere was so well known for. 

Damen lifted his sword, which made Laurent flinch violently and stop his rambling. Damen laid the sword across his hands and knelt to the ground in front of Laurent. When Laurent was silent and staring at him, Damen said, "I pledge my sword to you. Should anyone attempt to harm you again, I will protect you." 

"You really don't need to--" 

"I already have," Damen replied.

There was a pause, then Laurent said, breathless and barely audible, "Thank you."

Damen stood and sheathed his sword, and Laurent looked as if he were about to say something when a sharp voice interrupted. Laurent's head snapped around to see the speaker.

"Prince Laurent," It was Makedon, approaching them from the sidelines, "the king sent me to be your escort while you work." His gaze flicked over Laurent's head and locked on Damen.

Laurent nodded, then glancing at Damen, said, "I have to go." 

"Of course," Damen said, and the two of them set off. Damen watched as Laurent and Makedon struck up conversation and remembered that it was Makedon who took care of Laurent the night before.

He ran his hand over the hilt of his sword, and his thumb brushed the pommel, where an intricate lion's head was engraved. The weight of his sword was familiar and safe. He watched as Laurent waved his hands to punctuate whatever he was saying, and a breeze rippled through a nearby tree. He smiled.

He intended to keep his pledge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Your comments/kudos mean a lot :))))


	4. the woman.

Dinner was awkward. 

Laurent could feel Kastor's eyes on him the entire time. Every so often, Damen would try to catch his eye and smile, and Laurent would force a small smile onto his face.

"I went to the gates," Laurent told the king, "and built wards around the palace."

"Explain that to me," The king said. Though the words allowed for no argument, the tone was still light and conversational. 

"The wards will keep anyone with ill intentions from entering the gates," Laurent elaborated, "and if anyone manages to slip past, this bell will ring the moment they cross the threshold into the palace," He produced a dainty bell from his pocket. The king took it and turned it over between his hands. No sound rang from the bell, no matter how it moved. 

Smiling, King Theomedes said, "Very clever. You have my thanks." 

Laurent bowed his head just a touch and said, "Thank you, your Grace." His smile wavered when he caught Kastor looking at him from the corner of his eye. He dropped his gaze down to his plate and picked at his vegetables to avoid looking up.

"How are you finding Akielos?" King Theomedes asked right as Laurent shoveled a forkful into his mouth, "Is it to you liking?" 

Laurent swallowed hard and nodded. He set his fork down and collected himself for a moment before saying, "Yes, I like it very much. Prince Damianos has been especially welcoming. He showed me the gardens this morning." 

King Theomedes eyes crinkled with his smile. Mirth sparkled in his eyes, and he said, "Yes, my son has taken a liking to you, I think."

"I enjoy his company," Laurent replied, unsure of what else to say. He snuck what he thought was a secret glance over toward Damen's seat and found that Damen was already looking his way. Damen smiled brightly, and Laurent quickly looked away.

The king was smiling again, and this time, Laurent followed the lines of his smile. It interested him to see the warrior king's face, wrinkled by smile lines. It didn't quite seem to make sense.

The king rose from his seat when he finished eating and nodded to Laurent, then addressed the table, "I'll be taking my leave now. Enjoy the remainder of your evening." 

Laurent thought this was odd, but he made no comment of it.

A few minutes passed before Laurent excused himself, too. He could feel Damen's eyes on him as he returned to his room, but he ignored it. 

When he got back, he finally opened the letter from Auguste. He immediately smiled when he saw Auguste's messy, quick handwriting scrawled across the page. 

_Laurent--_

_I'm glad to hear you're safe. All is well here in your absence. Make sure you give the royal family good wishes for me. Keep me updated on everything that happens-- remember you can leave whenever you want._

_Nicaise misses you. He'd appreciate if you wrote something for him in your next letter._

_All my love,_

_Auguste_

Laurent curled up on his bed, clutching the letter. He loved his brother more than anything. 

He summoned a flame to his fingertips and let it engulf the letter until it was nothing. 

* * *

Laurent met Damen at breakfast the next morning, speaking with a blonde woman. She caught Laurent's eye before Damen could, and a smile cut across her full, pink lips. Damen followed her gaze and waved. 

"Lady Jokaste, this is Prince Laurent of Vere," Damen said, "Prince Laurent, this is Lady Jokaste." 

"It's a pleasure meeting you," Jokaste said, still smiling.

"And you," Laurent bowed just slightly to her.

"I've never met a sorcerer before," The excitement was clear in her voice, "I'd love to speak with you sometime." 

"No time like the present," Damen said lightly, "I have to go prepare for this afternoon. Laurent, Lady Jokaste can show you around for today." 

Laurent smile as Damen made his exit, and Laurent asked Jokaste, "What's going on this afternoon?" 

"The spring tournament. A sporting event the nobles like to participate in-- it's not such a big deal, more for fun than anything else," Jokaste told him, "We can go watch this afternoon. You can sit with me and my fiancée." 

Laurent noticed the glint of silver around her ring finger and asked, "You're engaged?" 

"Yes. We'll be married in the summer," She smiled at the thought, "Damen has been going mad, suggesting venues and decor. He's a bit of a romantic." 

Unsure of what else to say, Laurent simply said, "I hadn't noticed." 

Jokaste arched a severe eyebrow, "I doubt that's true."

"It isn't." Laurent admitted, which made Jokaste laugh. She extended her elbow, and Laurent linked with her. She began walking slowly, leading the way through the palace. 

"He was speaking to me about you before you arrived," Jokaste said. She then steered them into a hallway.

"He is interested by magic, I hear," Laurent replied easily. 

A dangerous smile curled the corners of Jokaste's mouth. She said, "Funny. He did not talk about your magic." 

She brought them through the doors into what Laurent quickly realized was the library. Built-in bookcases lined the walls, and more shelves filled the middle of the room. Along one of the walls was a floor to ceiling window, which flooded the room with bright natural light. Jokaste led the way to a space near the window that was piled with cushions. She broke the link with Laurent and settled on one cushion, and Laurent sat across from her. Sunlight warmed his skin.

"We have a while before we should head to the arena," She explained.

Laurent leaned against the cushion beside him. They settled in comfortable silence for a few moments before falling into easy conversation. Laurent wandered the shelves for a little while while also holding a conversation with Jokaste. It seemed they were the only people in the entire palace. When Laurent sat down again by the windows with a book, he could see the young nobles preparing, half dressed in athletic wear. The older nobles barked orders at the servants, who hurried to finish setting up. 

It was nearly lunchtime before Laurent knew it. Jokaste then talked for at least half an hour about her fiancée, and Laurent spoke a bit about his brother. That seemed to get Jokaste interested. 

"What does your brother the king think of all this? You moving off a foreign country by yourself, I mean," Jokaste asked, her voice cutting through the air.

Laurent propped his head on his hand, "He would not have agreed to it if he did not like it." 

"Do _you_ like it?" Jokaste asked, her eyes darting over his face. There was something sharp in her gaze, Laurent realized. She continued, "It was not long ago that Akielos punished magic. Even more recently than that, Akielos and Vere were enemies. Why would you agree to come here?" 

Laurent realized what was happening. He answered the question: "Peace will benefit everyone. Besides, magic likes balance, and magic is a part of me by now. Wartime doesn't suit me well." 

Jokaste looked interested when he mentioned his magic. She simply said, "I like that."

"Is there anything else the king wants you to ask me?" Laurent smiled, but it was dry.

Looking only mildly surprised, Jokaste shrugged lazily, "I'll let you know." She cocked her head to the side, observing him, "You're quick." 

"So are you." 

"I like you," Jokaste said determinedly. She nodded once to herself as if to affirm it.

Laurent replied, "I like you, too." Some part of him missed the quick, sharp banter of the courts in Vere. Jokaste would fit in there, he could already tell.

"I don't have many friends in the court," Jokaste said, regarding him.

"Why's that?" 

"Rumor has it, I broke Damianos' heart once," Jokaste said with a dramatized sigh. She laughed a bit to herself as she said, "I cannot help myself. I met Lykaios, and that was the end for me. The love god struck me with an arrow through the heart. I spent the next six months chasing her." 

"The love god?" Laurent asked, "He is an archer?" 

"He is _the_ archer," Jokaste corrected, "and he is the most merciless of the gods. From the day he struck me, I was sick." 

Laurent smiled. Magic had no gods, but he still enjoyed her tale. 

"They say it is only a story," Jokaste said as if sensing Laurent's disbelief, "but some part of me believes it." 

Laurent tipped his head against the cushions, basking in the sunlight. He said absently,"It's alright to believe stories sometimes." 

"Speaking of stories. I heard a story about your brother. Perhaps you can shed some light on it?" Jokaste asked, propping her head on her palm. Laurent just nodded, so she continued, "I heard he beat his own uncle to death with his bare hands." 

Her tone held no malice, but the words cut deep.

Laurent did not react. He just recited the same story he'd told since that day, "That's not true. Our uncle tried to usurp the throne, and Auguste executed him for treason. With a sword, not his hands. We kept it out of the public to prevent panic."

Jokaste considered this for a second, then nodded her head slowly. She said, "I can sell that to the king."

"It's the truth," Laurent replied. He settled into the cushions facing her.

"If we're going to be friends, Laurent, you need to be honest with me," Jokaste said. She reached over and took his hand in hers, and he rolled his eyes. She said, "I promise I won't tell anyone. I'll even tell you one of my own secrets so we're even."

Laurent hesitated.

"Isn't there a magic spell you could do?" Jokaste tilted her head lazily, "To make sure we cannot share each other's secrets? Or to make sure we don't lie to each other?"

Laurent considered this, then gave a little nod, "Sure. If you are up for it."

"What does it require?"

Laurent sat up straight, criss-crossed his legs, and faced Jokaste. She mirrored him. A gust of wind swept in a circle around them and threw Jokaste's hair over her shoulder, making her laugh.

"Hold up your finger," Laurent said, bringing up his pointer finger, "Kiss it." They each did, and Laurent finished, "Now tap them together." They pressed their fingers together, and Laurent waved his free hand over them. 

Magic like this demanded a binding agent-- a piece of each person partaking in the spell. Blood would work, hair would work, but the tiny bits of spit left by the kiss were the least worrisome to someone new to magic.

"Did it work?" Jokaste asked, looking excited at the prospect.

Laurent nodded and dropped his hand back into his lap, "It worked."

Jokaste took a pillow from beside her and wrapped her arms around it, clutching it against her chest. Her smile faded as she said, "Alright, then. Tell me why your brother killed your uncle."

Comforted by the knowledge Jokaste would be unable to repeat this information to anyone other than Laurent, he nodded his assent.

"My uncle was not a good person," Laurent prefaced. He shifted forward, eyes darting to the door to be certain they were alone. He continued, "I was very young at the time. I didn't understand magic yet, much less control it the way I can now. I couldn't defend myself. So Auguste defended me."

It was not a good memory. Laurent had never seen his brother so angry and so violent. Auguste's hands and face were stained bright red. Laurent had sat on the bed, half-dressed and crying and listening to his uncle die. For two days afterwards, Laurent hadn't been able to say a word to his brother. When he finally found his voice, the first thing he said was "Thank you," then he cried in Auguste's arms while Auguste whispered promises of protection.

Jokaste's face was solemn. She said, "I am glad."

"As am I," Laurent said with a nod. He drew in a sharp breath and said, "My brother has a tendency for violence, I know, but he isn't a bad person." Laurent didn't often like to admit to his brother's violence. It was an ugly spot.

"My turn," Jokaste said, straightening her spine just a bit.

"You don't have to."

"No, it's only fair," Jokaste's tone left no room for argument. She thought for a moment, then leaned closer, and said, "I know something about Prince Kastor." 

"Prince Kastor?" 

She nodded, "I have reason to believe he's going to cheat at the tournament today." 

"Really?" Laurent laughed a bit. He had been expecting something a bit more serious. 

"Yes, it's sad really," Jokaste sighed, "He is so desperate to best his brother."

Laurent remembered what Makedon had told him about Kastor liking to feel big. He nodded.

Jokaste broke their silence by clapping her hands and standing, "We've been sitting around half the morning. We should go." 

"Sure," Laurent stood, and the cushions began to arrange themselves tidily. Jokaste watched with wide eyes. 

"You are lucky," Jokaste said as they walked toward the doors, "I wish I could do that." 

"It's not so hard," Laurent said, "With practice, you could learn." It was much easier for children to learn, yes, but not impossible for an adult. 

"Really? It is not..." Jokaste shrugged, "a gift one is born with?" 

"No, it is learned," Laurent replied, "Well, some are born with a talent. I was. But it is still a learnable skill." 

"Does King Auguste know magic?" 

"Did the king ask you to ask me that?" 

"No."

"Will you tell him the answer?" 

"No, and I doubt he'll ask." Jokaste said with a shrug. 

Laurent answered, "Auguste has about the same magical ability as a rock."

Jokaste smiled, and Laurent did, too. 

Trumpets sounded from outside, and Jokaste cursed. She managed to keep her ladylike composure as she did.

"We're going to be late," She held out her hand for Laurent to take, "Come on." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jokaste is here! She and Laurent get along bc I always thought they would if they met in a non-confrontational environment. Also because I respect women and I want female characters in this story.


	5. the tournament.

The heat was nearly unbearable. A voice in the back of Laurent's head reminded him that it was only spring, and the heat would only get worse in the summer.

The stands were filled with people, mostly commoners from the villages. Laurent passed several families of parents and children, and his eyes followed them. Jokaste did not pause for a second as she led him by the arm up the wooden stairs that creaked every step to the noble's viewing box. She squeezed his arm to the point of pain and quickly released. There was a small cluster of lower counsel members sitting and chatting in the box, the king among them. Theomedes caught Laurent's eye and smiled, and Laurent bowed his head respectfully. Jokaste led him to a woman standing off to the side.

"Prince Laurent, this is my fiancée," Jokaste held her hand out, and the woman took it, "Ly, this is Prince Laurent, the sorcerer."

Laurent bowed, "Lady Lykaios."

The woman giggled behind her hand. She had a dainty look about her-- elegant fingers, a slender waist, and a petit frame. Her skin was darkly tanned, her long hair was tied in intricate but messy braids. Her dress was far plainer than Jokaste's.

"I am not a Lady, your Highness, and you shouldn't be bowing to me," Lykaios replied sheepishly, "I'm afraid I'm just a cook." 

"No shame in that," Laurent replied easily.

A trumpet sounded from below, and Jokaste smiled brightly, "Come sit. It's about to begin." 

She led them to the bench, and the three of them sat. Jokaste's viewing box was hidden in a shadow, which only marginally helped against the heat. The humidity was worse than the sun. Laurent felt the beginnings of sweat under his clothes and across his brow. 

The first event was archery, which Laurent did not find to be all too interesting. The archers were mostly young nobles from the far reaches of the country, some who looked younger than Nicaise. One particular child with a head of dark curls made homesickness pang in Laurent's chest. He began drafting his next letter for Auguste in his head. 

The air was so humid, Laurent could draw water vapor from it. It floated an inch above his fingers, and he twisted it to flow in a little figure eight. Water was Laurent's favorite of the elements. Less volatile than fire, harsher than wind, and more adaptable than earth. It was steady and brutal and gentle all at the same time.

Vaguely, Laurent was aware of the ongoing competition. When he looked up for a moment, the noble child who had reminded him of Nicaise slammed an arrow into the bullseye. Laurent smiled to himself, and the crowd cheered wildly.

"Bored already?" Jokaste asked, nudging Laurent lightly with her shoulder. Laurent smiled and let the droplets of water evaporate back into the air. She said, "Jousting is next. Damen will be competing in that one." 

Laurent's cheeks flushed as he said, "Right, sure." He tried to brush it off, but Lykaios and Jokaste shared a glance between them that told him he had not succeeded.

Minutes later, the arena was being cleared of the archers and targets. They were replaced with a fence down the center of the ring.

Laurent shifted in his seat as the first riders took their spots on either end of the fence. They waved to the crowd, which cheered loudly. The nobles around Laurent murmured among themselves. 

The riders clashed at the center of the ring, and one took a hard tumble. Laurent flinched. Jokaste clapped politely while the crowd below screamed praises and heckles at the riders. The rider on the ground stood up-- a bit shakily, but stood nonetheless-- and the crowd clapped again. The noise was nearly unbearable, Laurent thought. He drew his arms around himself and watched the next jousters in silence.

Kastor was one of the last pairs to joust. He did well and won well, and Laurent could not see any foul play as Jokaste had insinuated. 

"Tomorrow will be the final rounds," Jokaste told him, "The winners will face off until there is one victor." Laurent nodded his understanding.

Damen and his opponent were the last to compete. Damen did a lap around the arena, waving and smiling at the commoners. They would be his subjects one day, and their adoration of him was clear. Out of the corner of his eye, Laurent could see King Theomedes smiling softly at his son. 

At the end of his lap, Damen faced the box and bowed to his father, but Laurent could have sworn Damen snuck a glance his way.

Jokaste whispered something to Lykaios that made her giggle and look at him. Laurent could guess what was said.

Damen and his opponent took their places at either end of the fence, and squires brought their lances. Damen's horse was a beautiful stallion of stark black. Just looking at it made Laurent want to go on a ride with Damen, although he quickly abandoned those silly thoughts. 

The horses launched forward, and for a moment all seemed fine. The metal of the riders' lances glinted in the harsh sunlight, same as every pair before them. 

A second later, the black stallion stumbled to the ground, throwing Damen. 

The air was still for a moment before the crowd roared with shouts of concern and surprise. King Theomedes was shock-still. 

Everything began moving again at once. The king and his guards moved quickly to leave the box and unthinkingly, Laurent followed. His magic was already stirring under his skin and making his fingers twitch. He hurried to catch up to the king. A guard stopped him before he could get close.

"I can help," Laurent said, making King Theomedes turn around, "I know healing magic. I've done it plenty for my brother the king's army." 

It was not as simple as that. Healing magic was difficult, and it demanded close attention. The human body was delicate and easier to break than fix. When Auguste killed their uncle, he broke three fingers and bloodied his knuckles. Laurent had repaired them. He had not done it since.

King Theomedes nodded to his guard, who stepped out of Laurent's way. Laurent hurried forward to fall into step beside the king. 

When they got to the palace, Damen had already been brought inside.

"I've dressed his wounds, Exalted," The physician said as they approached. He was a stern man with careful hands, "Nothing too serious, though it will take him some time to heal fully." 

"Can I see?" Laurent asked as he approached, and the physician looked up at him. 

Glancing to the king, then to Laurent, the physician nodded and replied, "Please do, your Highness." 

Laurent slipped past the physician and into the room. Damen was sitting up on the physician's table, and although he looked strained, he smiled as Laurent approached. The leg had been cut off his trousers.

"Not my most impressive jousting, I admit," Damen said. He was clearly making an effort to keep his voice light and playful.

Laurent just smiled and slipped into the chair in front of the table. He said, "I've seen better. Tell me the damage." 

Damen chuckled, "Always business with you." He shifted a bit and grimaced, then gestured to his leg, "Broken, I'm afraid. I'm not quite sure how. It happened too fast. A few other bruises, but I'll survive."

"Hmm," Laurent reached forward to brush his fingertips over the tender skin of Damen's bare leg. When he closed his eyes, he could feel the break. Clean. No bone fragments. It was a neater break than Auguste's fingers had been. Laurent opened his eyes and said, "I can fix it." 

Damen just looked at him for a moment, then asked, "Is it too much trouble?" 

"No, of course not," Laurent replied, a bit surprised, "You know this is why I'm here." 

"Tell me how it works," Damen said, leaning forward. 

"I'll reset the bone and accelerate the body's natural healing process," Laurent replied, "It will take a while, but shorter than waiting for it to heal on its own." 

Damen nodded, "I put myself at your mercy."

Laurent got up quickly to inform the king that he would begin work. King Theomedes looked at him in silence for a few seconds. Laurent could see the tension in his shoulders and the concern in his eyes. The king said carefully, "Do what you can." Laurent bowed, then returned to Damen. 

"Do I need to do anything?" Damen asked. Laurent was searching the physician's supplies to find a scalpel.

"No, just relax," Laurent picked up the small blade and pressed it into the tip of his finger until it drew fat beads of blood. 

"What are you--"

"Just relax," Laurent said, pressing his finger to Damen's forehead. He drew the runes of peace and health onto Damen's forehead with his bleeding finger. Immediately, Damen's head tipped back and his eyelids drooped. The peace rune was removing his pain and replacing it with numbness. The health rune would help to jumpstart Damen's healing process.

Laurent lifted his hands to begin.

* * *

It was dark when Laurent stopped, brow sweating and hands shaking. He sat back in his chair and took in a deep breath.

"It's done," He murmured. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before straightening and finding a rag to wipe the runes from Damen's forehead. He asked, "Does it feel alright?" 

Damen lifted his head and brought his hand down to his leg. He lifted his eyes to Laurent, "It feels good." 

"Try standing," Laurent directed, "but not too fast." 

Damen stood and tested his weight. He broke into a smile, "It's perfect. It's--" He crouched in front of Laurent's hair and pecked a kiss to Laurent's cheek, "Thank you." 

Shocked still, Laurent was only able to say, "Oh."

"It feels like nothing ever happened," Damen laughed, straightening again and taking a few steps to test the ability of his leg. 

"I wouldn't do too much so soon," Laurent said. Fatigue was crashing down on him. He said, "It's still fragile. It will be perfectly alright in a day or so."

"Suppose I shouldn't compete tomorrow then," Damen said. He sounded a bit sad.

Laurent replied, "Suppose not." He yawned. 

Damen looked at him and smiled the way a man smiles at a child or a dog. He said, "I've worn you out." 

"I'm alright." Laurent replied, "Just took a lot of energy, that's all. I'll be fine in the morning."

"Come," Damen extended his hand, "I'll escort you back to your chambers." 

Laurent accepted Damen's hand and let himself be led down the halls. Their pace was slow, and Laurent found his thoughts wandering. 

"What happened? During the event, I mean." He asked. His voice echoed across the empty hall.

Damen glanced at him for a second, then replied, "I'm not sure. It was too fast. I think my horse stepped in a hole, fell. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that--" _Kastor might have cheated at the tournament._ The words died on his tongue. For a second, he was confused, then he remembered. Jokaste had told him that as a secret, and his own magic prevented him from telling her secrets. 

Damen smiled and patted Laurent's shoulder, "I'm sorry to frighten you." 

"What if," Laurent scrambled for a loophole through the spell, "someone did this on purpose?" 

"On purpose, Laurent?" Damen looked more amused than concern. The start of a smile twisted onto his lips, and his voice was light as he said, "It was only an accident. How could anyone have done it on purpose?" 

"I don't--" The look on Damen's face made Laurent feel very stupid, so he snapped, "Fine, you're right." 

Noticing his sharpness, Damen's face softened, "I'm sorry. I should not take your concern so lightly. That was unkind."

Laurent just shook his head, "Maybe you're right. It was only speculation." How could Kastor have done something like this? There was no way to plan it. Laurent tried to push the thoughts from his head, but he they nagged at him.

"I am grateful for your help today," Damen said, "I need to repay you somehow." 

"You really don't need to." 

Damen smiled again and said, "I will, though. Tomorrow I'll have breakfast brought to you. We should sit together to watch the remainder of the tournament."

Laurent felt the smiled spreading over his own face, helpless to stop it, and said, "I would like that." 

"Good," Damen stopped outside of Laurent's chamber door, "I'll see you then."

Before leaving, Damen took Laurent's wrist in one hand and lifted it to look. Laurent stopped himself short of pulling out of his grip. Meeting Laurent's eyes carefully, Damen bowed his head and kissed the tip of Laurent's finger.

"I did not know the spell required your blood," Damen said. 

The finger had long since stopped bleeding, and Laurent replied, "It's really no matter." 

"It is," Damen insisted, "I don't ever want to make you bleed." 

"Really, Damianos," Laurent chided, "It was barely anything."

Damen released Laurent's wrist, "Goodnight, Laurent."

"Goodnight."

With that, Damen left, and Laurent lingered in his doorway until he was out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! thanks to everyone so much for reading/commenting/leaving kudos!! I appreciate it so much :)
> 
> Lmk what you think about this chapter in the comments!


	6. the picnic

Laurent woke with the sun in his eyes. He forced himself to saunter out of bed and drop heavily into his desk chair, where his candle was waiting. He pricked his finger on his letter opener and let the blood drip onto the paper below.

"Dear Auguste," Laurent murmured, his voice rough from sleep. He yawned as the blood contorted and became letters on the page. He said, "I am doing well. I've been helping anywhere I can. It's nice here; Damianos has been especially kind." He then thought about omitting that part, but the letters had already begun to form, so he continued, "Tell Nicaise I'm thinking about him and I'll see him as soon as I can. I love you both." 

Laurent summoned a flame and sent the letter.

With that, Laurent clumsily dressed, head still spinning with sleep, and slipped through the door. The palace was near empty with only a handful of servants going around their daily routines. Laurent made his way uncertainly through the palace until a guard stopped him. 

"The prince asked me to escort you to the tournament when you woke," The guard told him in careful but heavily accented Veretian. 

Laurent replied in Akielon, which removed the tension from the guard's shoulders, "Already?" 

"You overslept a bit," The guard told him, "Prince Damianos warned the maid girl against waking you."

A bit embarrassed, Laurent nodded, "Right. Okay." The guard bowed, then led him through the doors. 

The tournament was already in action as the guard brought Laurent to the noble box. The crowd was loudly cheering, and the sun beat down on them. The guard brought Laurent up the steps to the box, then bowed to the occupants. Several people turned to look at him, Jokaste among them.

"Exalted, your Highness," He gestured for Laurent to come forward, "Prince Laurent of Vere."

Damen broke into a wide smile and came to meet Laurent, saying, "Thank you, Pallas. That will be everything." As the guard left, Damen took Laurent's hand and kissed his knuckles.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Laurent said, "I didn't--"

"You were tired," Damen shook his head, "It is understandable. I am very grateful for what you've done for me." He stepped aside, and the king approached.

King Theomedes wore his warm smile with the same elegance he did his crown. He took Laurent's hand between his and said, "Akielos thanks you." 

Laurent was unsure of what to say, so he simply said, "Of course."

"Come sit," Damen said, gesturing for Laurent to follow him. The king nodded once to him, so Laurent went to sit with Damen. 

Over her shoulder, Jokaste sent him a knowing look and a smirk, then whispered something to Lykaios. Both giggled, and Laurent forced himself to look back at the competition. 

Though he was quite late, he was early enough to see Kastor win the jousting event.

* * *

After calling upon servants to bring wine and food, Damen led him enthusiastically into the gardens for lunch. He spread a blanket on the grass in front of a willow tree whose leaves brushed the ground, then sat and gestured for Laurent to copy. A plate of fruit and cheese and meet was set on the blanket by a servant, who bowed and gave a small smile on her way away.

"Are you feeling alright?" Damen asked as Laurent sat, "Still tired?" 

"A bit, but I'll survive," Laurent admitted, "I wrote a letter to my brother and nephew this morning." The sunlight caught in Damen's hair and made him look like a sun deity. Laurent be distracted by this, but found it difficult. 

"I did not know your brother has a child," Damen lifted his glass to his lips, then gestured for Laurent to do the same. Laurent did not often drink alcohol, but he did as Damen wanted because some part of him could not refuse. The wine was sweet and had a sour tang to it. Damen smiled as Laurent drank more than just a sip.

"He's not Auguste's, really. He's an orphan. He was staying with my uncle for a little while," Laurent replied when he set his glass down at his side, "After he died, Auguste adopted Nicaise as his own." 

Damen paused at that, and Laurent regretted bringing up his uncle.

"Your uncle," Damen said slowly, "I've not heard good things." 

Laurent relaxed a bit and said, "Right. He was not a very good man. He was cruel and obsessed with power." 

"Did he harm you? Or Nicaise?" Damen's brow was knit with concern. 

For a second, Laurent was floundered. People in the Veretian court did not express the same sympathy, even when they knew exactly the type of man his uncle had been. After Auguste killed their uncle, the court did all they could to ignore it, as if it had never happened. None of them asked Laurent such gentle questions. Laurent shook his head. He said, "No. He never got the chance." 

"Good," Damen nodded. He took another drink of wine and cut himself a small sliver of cheese, which he spread over a piece of bread. He smiled when he caught Laurent staring, "You should eat. You missed breakfast." 

"Tell me something about yourself," Laurent said. He laid on his side and popped a strawberry into his mouth.

Damen's eyes lingered on Laurent's face for a moment, then he adverted his eyes and smiled. He said, "I'm afraid I'm uninteresting. No magic, no gossip, no drama. You are magic; I'll bore you."

"I don't believe that," Laurent replied. He curled his legs closer to his body, and Damen's eyes followed. Laurent said, "Tell me something you like to do."

"I like sparring, and I like drinking," Damen lifted his glass, and Laurent copied. Both drank. Damen continued, "I like riding and hunting and swimming. Are you bored yet?" 

"No," Laurent propped himself up on one elbow, "You like riding?" 

Damen's face broke into a bright smile, his dimple cutting into his cheek. He asked, "Would you like to go with me sometime? There's a lovely mountain trail down to the beach. It's very beautiful, especially at sunset."

"Yes," Laurent said. As soon as he said it, he realized he sounded too excited, but it made Damen's eyes crinkle into his smile, so Laurent did not correct himself. 

"Good," Damen said, "We should go tomorrow evening." 

"I would like that," Laurent nodded quickly. He finished his glass of wine then refilled the glass, which made Damen raise his eyebrows and chuckle. He said, "Jokaste tells me the two of you used to date." 

"A long time ago. She has run to the arms of another now," Damen said with a little shake of his head, "It is for the best. We were not good together. We brought out a bad side of each other, but I loved her anyway." 

"I doubt you have a bad side," Laurent replied easily.

Damen just smiled and drank.

Laurent's stomach filled with butterflies the more he drank. Absently, he played with different spells, sprouting flower buds and bringing a sharp breeze. As he did, the two of them chattered senselessly about whatever they could. Laurent could feel the wine like cotton balls in his head, making him giggly and foolish.

A guard approached them after a while to tell Damen his father was asking for him. Laurent stumbled a bit when he stood, and Damen caught him by the arm to steady him. 

"Sorry to cut this short," Damen said, extending his arm to Laurent, which Laurent accepted.

"That's okay," Laurent said. Now that he was moving, his steps were more steady and even. 

"I hope we can do this again sometime," Damen said as they entered the palace. He released Laurent, then kissed his knuckles. Laurent would blame his red cheeks on the wine.

"Of course," Laurent said with a little bow. Damen reached forward to pluck a leaf out of Laurent's hair, then said a quick goodbye and followed the guard away.

Laurent wasn't sure what to do. The wine had brought his fatigue back, and being without Damen gave him little distraction from it. He started slowly making his way back to his room, content to take a quick afternoon nap. He paused as he passed the hall leading to the king's chambers. The air was charged; something was wrong. 

"Laurent." 

Laurent turned.

"A pleasure to see you again," Kastor approached, wearing the laurel crown of a victor. 

"Right," Was all Laurent said.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself here, while you last," Kastor said, a smile on his face, "It really is a beautiful country. Be sure to tell your brother that when you return home." 

"That won't be for some time, I imagine," Laurent replied. He did not like Kastor's tone. Maybe he did not like Kastor.

"Oh, sooner than you think." 

"What does that mean?"

"Akielos will never accept magic," Kastor said, a look of sympathy on his face that could only be fake, "Magic is sacrilegious and dangerous. Akielos will have no part in it, not now and not ever. My people will not want you once they come to their senses about what you are."

Laurent's fingers curled. He tampered down his magic as he said, "Magic has no gods. It doesn't care about your judgement."

"Akielos has gods. They are far stronger than your little tricks," Kastor replied, his tone condescending and frighteningly calm, "Until little more than a year ago, my father referred to your brother as the Snake King. He said Veretians were scheming and untrustworthy. Do you honestly think his opinion has changed so drastically so soon?" Kastor looked at him with a chastising smile.

Laurent wanted out of this conversation. A spark jumped from his fingertips, and he forced himself to slow his breathing to regulate his magic. He said as calmly as he could, "I won't be intimidated by one person's opinions. Certainly not yours."

Kastor chuckled, "I'd hold your tongue, viper. You have no power here in Akielos."

"I have quite a bit of power, is the problem. You're afraid of magic," Laurent said, then, "You're afraid of _me_."

"Don't give yourself too much credit," Kastor said more sharply, "Give it another week, and everyone here will see you exactly the way I do."

"And how do you see me?" 

"A serpentine little freak," Kastor said, cocking his head and arching his brow as if daring Laurent to argue. 

"Why?" Laurent met the challenge, "Because I'm stronger than you?" 

Kastor's expression soured, "I don't think you want to test that." 

"I like my odds," Laurent replied evenly.

"We'll see." Kastor's lips twitched into a frown, "Good afternoon, witch."

Laurent's fingers curled into a fist as Kastor went on his way. Laurent began back toward his room again, but the charge in the air did not leave until he turned down his own hall. 

Kastor was unlike the courtiers in Arles. He was bold in the ways they were cryptic; he was blunt force where they were razor-sharp. Laurent had seen enough of the Veretian court to know not to underestimate anyone. Even idle threats were threats, and Laurent would not be caught unprepared. 

When he got into his room, Laurent sat down again at his desk and tapped his fingers against the table. If the time came that he needed to justify a fight with Kastor, he would need documentation of Kastor's aggression. He took a sheet of paper and dated the top, then and pricked his finger. 

"Auguste," Laurent glanced over his shoulder at the door, then turned back to say, "Kastor does not like me much. He calls me 'witch' and speaks ill of magic to my face," Laurent watched the letters form, "He's made vague threats, but I'm not sure it means anything. Don't worry about me; I'm going to be alright. I'll let you know if anything changes. All my love."

Laurent tipped the letter into the flame.


End file.
